5 Dialogues I Have Heard Time and Again (Guest Post)

As part of my blog’s first anniversary I am hosting a ‘blog party’. Today my guest is Anamika Agnihotri. She is a mother of a 6 year old son. She is an observer, an optimist, an introvert, a spiritual seeker and an eternal learner. She considers herself as a silent crusader against gender bias and gender stereotypes since she is silently working at the grassroots level with her son within the close confines of her home in the event of raising a well balanced human being rather than a gender. She blogs about the picture books she reads with her son and her growing up stories as a parent on her blog ‘The Bespectacled Mother‘. Her social media links are -Facebook – facebook.com/thebespectacledmother and facebook.com/anamika.agnihotri Twitter – @Anagnihotri . Anamika has an amazing sense of humour and here in her quintessential style she wrote a hilarious piece for us. Enjoy!!!

 

Ja Simran ja, jee le apni zindagi.

Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahin … namumkin hai.

Kitne aadmi the? Holi kab hai, kab hai re holi?

Mere Karan Arjun Aayenge.

All is well…All is well.

Do you see the common thread here? These are some of the famous Hindi movie dialogues and if you are or if you have been a movie buff just like me, you must have mouthed them too at some point or the other. Wasn’t it fun, tell me?

However, I am not talking about the iconic Hindi movie dialogues here but those which are from everyday life, which normal people like you and I come up with and speak to each other or those which become a part of our upbringing. Over a period of time, such dialogues either become fodder for laughter or get instated as a norm.

Here is a list of dialogues which I have heard repeatedly in my life –

1. Ae Bibi, badi kamzor ho gayi hai!

In Brijbhasa, you call a girl or a woman Bibi to show your affection and the first thing to tell that person upon meeting that wo kamzor ho gayi hai (she has become thinner, thus weaker) is the penultimate display of affection and concern, blended together.  This dialogue has stayed the default welcome gesture for ages.

So next time, if you want to feel good about your weight issues, you can come with me to meet my folks. When you will hear this same welcome dialogue from not one but several people at one place, you are likely to believe you have actually got thinner (or weaker).

2. Ab ki baar to rahogena!

In my childhood, we used to land up in my father’s native village in holidays. Ladies from the neighbourhood would then drop in to meet us and after a few pleasantries, they would make an exclamation Ab ki baar to rahoge na! (You are going to stay this time!) This felt good initially but soon the Sherlock Holmes in me began wondering if this was a twisted way to find out how many days were we going to stay?

Later, I decided to use it one time when cousins, who were terrible mischief makers and abhorred for this reason, came to visit us and it worked.

3. Zyada khush mat ho nahin to phir rona padega!

The prevalent idea around my growing up years was not to get swayed by or get overexcited by something lest the next thing to hit would be sorrow. There was always this fear of impending doom which forced us to live under the cloud of negativity.

I wish gratitude was a part of the life of people influencing me.

4. Khana to ghar ki aurat ko hi banana chahiye!

A dialogue I got used to hearing after tying the nuptial knot. What if the Ghar ki aurat (woman of the house) doesn’t know how to cook? What if she doesn’t like or want to cook? What if she has no time to cook after spending the whole day at work? There is no ‘Then…’ to this in the answer but a ‘Then also…’

Now after a ‘Then also..,’ what if she incidentally or accidentally or deliberately put more salt or garam masala in the food to be served to the family? Wicked. So much for a Sanskaari Ghar ki Aurat.

5. Ye baal dhoop main safed nahin kiye hain!

This is a sarcastic statement to show somebody your level of experience and wisdom and quieten them. You, hence, know the colour of wisdom is white.

As I am inching closer to the number 40 in terms of age, I am eagerly waiting for the chameleon in me to take charge and change the colour of my wisdom from black to white. I am never going to colour or dye my hair thereafter because why wouldn’t I want to carry on the legacy of this dialogue.

Do you have any real-life dialogue flung into your face regularly? Would you like to share the fun side of it with Balaka and me?